Heart of Home

 




Oh my tiny village home

All I see are strange faces

You hardly see anyone you use to know

Everyone’s out in the city hustling 

Children have grown at home

Strangers have moved into our land

Oh how I miss the good old days


The rising bright sun 

The bath we took under the cold winds of harmattan 

The wet bushes of the woods

The smell of mushrooms under the tree logs 

The laughs we all made during midnight tales 

Who knew how life would turned out

The bad old days and the good new days


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